


Flames

by EmrysTheMerlin



Series: An Innocent Warrior, A Wise King [5]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Burning, Gen, Nightmares, POV Second Person, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 05:37:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16320118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmrysTheMerlin/pseuds/EmrysTheMerlin
Summary: This can't be Arthur. This can't be true. But you can feel the flames at your feet, burning through your shoes."Goodbye Merlin." He's laughing at you. You can still feel the flames licking at you.





	Flames

**Author's Note:**

> This one's a little different. Second Person POV and definitely more violent and scary than the others. Another transfer from Fanfiction. I own nothing.

You’re dreaming. You know you’re dreaming. This can’t be real. The sheer impossibility of this situation is too much to be real. This. Can’t. Be. Real.

That’s all you can think as you are lead to the stake. You’re too stunned to struggle. This can’t be happening. One of your friends is behind you tying the ropes around your wrist, securing you to the stake. You know somehow that it’s Gwaine. But it can’t be, Gwaine wouldn’t do that. The ropes bite into your wrists but you can’t gasp. There’s a gag in your mouth stopping the questions, the panic, stopping you from doing what they are afraid of.

There’s a crowd of people watching. Only one actually looks upset. Your mother, restrained by the man you have come to think of as your father. She looks devastated, her face stained with tears. But Gaius looks wrong. There is something in his eyes you’ve never seen before, but you recognize it. Hatred. This has to be a dream.

There’s a pile of wood around your feet. But as the torch is brought forward your heart seems to stop. The normal executioner isn’t the one holding the torch. You know the man holding the torch. You’ve known him for years. He is your best friend. He is the man you would trust with your life. He is to be your executioner.

He smiles but his bright blue eyes don’t glint happily. No the glint there is pure malice. He turns and addresses the crowd.

“This excuse for a human being has been convicted of using magic!” They hiss and boo. You know that if he wasn’t standing there they would throw things. 

“He has, by the laws of Camelot, been sentenced to death by burning.” They cheer, all but one your mother. He turns back to you, smiling again.

“You’ve lied and tricked me for too long. I don’t know what you expected as your reward, but this is all you’ll get.” He lights the fire, throwing the torch by your foot. This. Can’t. Be. Real.

This can’t be Arthur. This can’t be true. But you can feel the flames licking at your feet, burning through your shoes. The gag is in your way but you somehow manage a muffled scream. He is smiling. His knights are smiling, they were your friends. One is missing. Lancelot isn’t there.

“Goodbye Merlin.” He’s laughing at you! You can still feel the flames eating at you. But the worst is you can smell it.

Burning flesh smells nothing like normal cooking meat. Burning flesh smells like sweat, burning hair and fear. The smell is like acid. It’s a smell you’ve smelled before. You’ve seen others burned, on Uther’s orders. But this time you are smelling your own skin burn. It’s different this time. You can see Arthur laughing at you. You can’t take it anymore. The gag has burned off. You scream.

You sit bolt upright, the scream echoing in your ears. The forest floor is cold and damp and wonderful. You look around, your friends are there. None woke up; your neckerchief muffled the scream. You can’t sit still. The moon is riding low on the crystal clear horizon, almost setting.

You scramble to your feet and sneak from the camp. Once you’re sure they can’t hear you, you run. You aren’t running away, not really. You’ll be back before they wake up. You aren’t running to anything. There’s nothing out here to run to.

You’re simply trying to outrun the smell. You can still smell it. Your own flesh and hair burning. Your stomach is revolting, wanting to empty itself, but you aren’t far enough away yet. You know you are far enough away when you trip headlong. Sprawling over the ground you finally let yourself be sick. 

You wipe your mouth and stand staggering away from it. You tripped on a fallen sapling. You sit on the offending tree, bury your head in your hands and cry. 

Maybe you were running away. You didn’t want them to see you like this. This is a weakness you can’t share. One you won’t share even if you could. You know it’s just a dream but it was so real. It always is.

You’ve never smelled it before. That was new. You shiver. There are clouds gathering over you and your fear has called your magic to the surface. You can’t hold it in.

It doesn’t come out in a flash or a scream. There is no lightning overhead or tremble from the earth underneath you. Just a muffled sob you know is your own and suddenly it is pouring rain.

You can’t help but laugh. You made it rain! Arthur won’t know that when he sends you those accusing looks, like the rain is your fault, that he’s right. You stand and run your hand through your dripping hair. 

You make your way back to camp smiling your signature smile. No one notices that your eyes are red. The tear streaks are hidden by the rain.

Arthur and the others woke up when the rain started. Lancelot looks at you curiously. You say you were looking for firewood when the rain started. They don’t ask questions. The nightmares have been more frequent lately. You avoid Arthur’s eyes as Gwaine ruffles your soaking hair. 

You follow them as Arthur leads the way to a cave he saw earlier. Lancelot falls back to talk to you.

“Merlin are you alright?” You nod not trusting your voice.

“Nightmares again?” Of course Lancelot knows. He is the most observant of your friends. You nod and explain the dream in a raw whisper.

You don’t realize that you’ve stopped walking and leaned against a tree until Lancelot pulls you off it into a hug. You sniffle into his shoulder. The rain picks up and lightning flashes almost directly overhead as you remember the torch falling at your feet.

“It’s ok Merlin. That’s never going to happen. Arthur would never do that, we both know that.” You nod into his shoulder, still sniffling a little. You and Lancelot quickly catch up with the others. You set up camp in the cave. You manage to find some wood that is dry enough to burn and start a fire.

For a long while after the others have fallen asleep you sit and stare into the flames, remembering the dream. 

You jump as someone pats you on the shoulder. You look up and see Arthur’s face, for just a second your mind latches onto the fear it had when the Arthur from the dream had thrown the torch at your feet. In an instant it’s gone and you smile up at him.

“You alright Merlin?” He sounds almost concerned. You raise an eyebrow.

“Normally you’d be complaining about the weather, or me dragging you along on a hunting trip in the first place.” You smile again.

“I’m fine. Just can’t sleep.” He looks you over carefully.

“You woke up screaming. Nightmares?” He isn’t looking at you. He’s looking into the fire. You nod. He looks up and you nod again and feel the cold shiver run down your spine. You shiver. He puts an arm around you like an older brother.

“You are such a girl Merlin.” You somehow understand that this is his way of comforting you. 

Suddenly you feel better about it and the dream begins to fade. You somehow know that the nightmares won’t bother you for a while. The rain outside turns to a slow drizzle then finally stops. You fall asleep soon after that and the nightmares finally leave you undisturbed.


End file.
